Your Name across my heart
by SoDamnSherlocked
Summary: John is at work and gets a message from Sherlock that he's hurt & rushes home to find that the detective suffers from a different kind of pain than he originally thought K plus for snogging Just something small I found on my hard drive


**AN: **I had this written a long time ago and I figured: Posting it? Why the hell not, so here we go.

Just a little something.

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John was sitting at his desk in his office, trying to wrap his head around the file in front of him. He had his eyes closed deep in thought as the buzzing of his phone tore him out of his thoughts.

221B Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. - SH

John rubbed his eyes and sighed as his phone buzzed again.

If inconvenient, come anyway. - SH

He took his phone, opened a new message and started typing.

What is it now, Sherlock? I'm at work. - JW

It didn't take long before the small black case full of technical stuff made the familiar noise again.

There is something I want to show you. - SH

Now John was confused. He didn't want to see the outcome of his newest experiment, especially not if it involved the fridge.

Sherlock, I can't just leave. I'm at work! - JW

Not important. Just get home. You could say I was hurt. - SH

What?! I'm coming home.

He didn't bother anymore with his initials, who else would write Sherlock? So he discarded the file and went to grab his coat before heading out. Sarah caught him on his way.

„I'm done with the paperwork for today. I'll just head home and do whatever comes up tomorrow."

She sighed. „Fine. Have a nice evening."  
„Yeah, you too. See you tomorrow."

He shortly waved at her before heading out of the door. He was sure he wasn't going to get a cab, so he quickly went to the nearest tube station to get home.

As he arrived, he fumbled with his keys and when he'd finally opened the front door, he bolted up the stairs. Bursting open the door to their flat, he found Sherlock laying on the sofa, totally calm in his thinking pose.

"Sherlock, what the- Why did you call me here on an emergency when you're perfectly fine?!"

The consulting detective opened his eyes, only now realizing his flatmate had arrived and turned his head to fully look at him.

"Because I'm not _perfectly fine_." He spoke the last two words through gritted teeth and it seemed he was in great pain.

John's doctor instincts kicked in.

"Sherlock? What is wrong?" He knelt in front of the curly haired man and looked at him.  
"I have a burning itch on my chest, right here." He pointed to where his heart sat.

John's eyes widened, going through all the possibilities of what it could be that wasn't life-threatening.

"Relax, John. I'm sure it's not a heart attack or anything similar."

John got up turned towards him.

"Okay, take your shirt off, I'm going to get my stethoscope, just to make sure your heart is fine."

He hurried out of the living room and got his medical bag before sitting down next to the detective, facing one another. Sherlock had taken off his shirt now (the purple one John had found a liking to, well, when I say "liking", I actually mean he's obsessed with it) and underneath it was the marble pale skin, interrupted by a large plaster where the detective claimed the itching burn to be.

"Sherlock, what is this?"

John narrowed his eyes at the taller man and he shrunk visibly (yes, there were times when even Sherlock Holmes was afraid of the ex-army doctor in his disguise of cuddly, woolly jumpers).

"This is where the burn is coming from."

John raised his hand and grabbed the plaster, ripping it off at once. Sherlock yelped at the pain as the doctor had ripped out some of his chest hair as well.

As John focused on the red skin beneath the plaster, he saw something written on the detectives chest in black. The madman had gotten himself a tattoo.

"Sherlock, are you crazy?" He stared wide-eyed at his flatmate.

"Read what it says, John."

The doctor looked closer and suddenly, the beautifully drawn font made out a word.

_**John**_

"Your name across my heart."

John looked him in the eyes before his vision went blurry with tears. He choked back a sob and Sherlock simply hugged him tightly.

"Why?" This was the only word that made it through his throat, voice wobbly from the tears.

Sherlock pulled back, but kept the doctor at arm's length.

"Because you, John, are the most important thing in my life. Even if you don't feel like that sometimes, believe me this time when I say you are. You're more important than the work. You always claimed I have a heart and now I have to admit: It's true, but it's not in here," he tipped at his chest "but it's sitting right in front of me." He smiled weakly and John started crying even more.

"What are you trying to say here, Sherlock? I believe you, but I need to hear it."

Sherlock took one deep breath, probably to calm himself because how could John not have noticed?

"The truth and what I'm trying to make you see is that I love you."

John wound his arms around the taller man's neck and pulled him close, their faces only inches away. "Thank you." It was only a whisper on John's lips before they closed the distance to Sherlock's.

As they fell backwards onto the sofa, Sherlock pulled back from the kiss. John shot him a confused look and tried to get back to snogging.

"Aren't you going to say it back? I thought that was how it's supposed to go." Sherlock crinkled his forehead and John started laughing.

"I love you, too, you madman." And they went back to snogging.

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**AN: **Okay, that was incredibly short, it was an idea I had and I just went to write it down and forgot about it until today during...

Uhm, you don't want to know. Anyways, tell me if you liked it and stuff, I'm gonna be in my bed.

Much love,

xxx


End file.
